


I'm Yours - You Know It

by AliceWasNotDreaming



Category: The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Angst with a Happy Ending, Jealousy, M/M, Minor Morgoth Bauglir | Melkor/Sauron | Mairon, Mutual Pining, Sauron and Morgoth are BFFs
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-25
Updated: 2018-08-25
Packaged: 2019-06-16 03:30:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 4,070
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15428064
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AliceWasNotDreaming/pseuds/AliceWasNotDreaming
Summary: They did not know that Melkor had never been jealous of Manwe. He was jealous of Varda...





	1. How it Began

Melkor still remembered Manwe's birth.

It was hard to describe - a stirring in the Great Music, an awakening of a spirit -

Melkor sensed its presence, and he knew right away that this was his One.

Melkor had never held with such nonsense as soulmates before, had always resented the concept that a being would be drawn against his will to another being, so powerlessly. Melkoe hated not being the one in control. To not be in control of his heart, or Eru forbid, of his mind - Melkor hated the idea.

He had simultaneously felt outraged by the presence of the being (how dare he try to take away Melkor's power over himself? How dare he be Melkor's soulmate?!) and drawn to it.

But when the spirit found a shape - a glorious shape, with silver hair and a face beautiful beyond description - when the being looked up at Melkor's face with deep blue eyes and smiled at him - Melkor all but caved.

Because he finally felt the power of soulmates, the inevitableness of it, and he was helpless to resist it. He did not even want to resist it.

He had always had a secret desire to bend the world to his will, but suddenly the world did not matter anymore. Or rather, this being became his world.

That would have frightenede him before. But now - now he could not even feel afraid. His heart only cared for his mate. It was as if the entire universe had narrowed down to one single being.

Melkor loved him -yes, loved him beyond rationality, beyond all his senses. 

The young being that was still learning more and more about the universe, about his existence. He was such an innocent, kind being, this little Manwe...

Melkor guided him, played with him, showered him with affection and love, and silently, patiently waited for his little soulmate to grow and recognize the draw he felt to Melkor.

***

And then Varda came into the picture...

Beautiful, enchanting, charismatic Varda with her bright star-eyes and graceful shape. How Melkor longed to rip apart that pretty face, to shred her mercilessly into tiny pieces. He loathed that bitch with all that remained of his broken heart, that bitch who stole his One from him.

Melkor always thought that his madness started when Manwe and Varda bonded. 

They said Varda was a benevolent, kind-hearted, good being. They never knew that she was the ruthless, power-hungry creature who did not even hesitate to take Melkor's One from him.

But he knew Manwe was to blame, too. The weakling who could not resist the temptation of Varda, the weakling who did not have the courage to refuse Varda...

He did not deserve Melkor!

And even as his heart bled, Melkor vowed to bring them down. He would tear Varda and Manwe's perfect world down, piece by piece if he had to. He would endure any punishment, but he would never, ever let them get their happy ending they did not deserve. He would never let them live in the beautiful world they built on lies and treachery.

Those mortals... they worshipped Varda and hated Morgoth. They did not realize that Varda created Morgoth...


	2. From Varda's Perspective

Varda knew right away that Manwe was Melkor's One, though Manwe himself evidently did not.

And she knew right away that Melkor was fated to be evil. 

So when Manwe fell for her and began courting her, she did not refute him. 

She knew what others would say if they knew - that she was power-hungry, scheming, manipulative. Well, Elbereth Gilthoniel had never cared one whit what others said. She would do what was for the best, and if saving the King of the Valar from being bonded to evil and falling into darkness meant robbing Melkor of his One - she would do it.

She could feel the way Melkor's eyes burned holes into her the day she and Manwe bonded. The hatred that was directed at her would have frightened her, if she could feel fear.

But she also sensed the pure pain that Melkor was experiencing. And though she could not feel fear she could feel pity. 

So when someone spread the rumours that Melkor was jealous of Manwe and lusted after Varda, she made no attempt to correct them, made no attempt to inform them that it was the exact opposite.

It was the only thing she could do for Melkor, the Vala fated to fall into darkness. The only thing she could do was to let him keep his pride. 

***

When Melkor fell into darkness she felt a sliver of doubt - what if he fell because Varda took Manwe from him?

She chose not to think upon it. What was done was done. Regret would not change the past.

She had done what she thought was necessary. Whether she was to blame or not, her intentions had been good - and Melkor had chosen his own path. Varda did not goad him to become evil. 

***

Did she love Manwe?

It was hard to answer this question. What was love, Varda wondered? No one had ever been able to arrive at a definition of love that everyone agreed on.

So Varda chose her own definition of love - wanting the best for a person, even if she stood to lose by it.

According to her definition, of course she loved Manwe. 

But according to the elves' definition - romance, the need to be with that person no matter the cost - 

Varda did not approve of that definition at all. That was selfish, and love should not be selfish. 

She sometimes wondered if she loved Melkor.

Would she sacrifice herself if it meant saving Melkor from darkness? Gladly, but that was more because she did not want the world to suffer from Melkor's evil. 

So did she love Melkor?

Varda could not say. If someone asked, the best answer she could give would be 'perhaps'.


	3. Temporary Truce

Whenever Melkor thought of the time he begged for his One's forgiveness and lived with them 'peacefully' in Valinor, he always thought of it as a temporary truce, a temporary respite. A time he took to observe closely the enemy's strength and mind. 

And, of course, to observe Manwe and Varda.

He could not help but admire himself when he remembered kneeling at the King's feet, under the watchful, mistrusting gaze of the Queen, begging for their mercy. How could he have concealed the raw rage and hatred he felt for them? The utter disgust and contempt? It was a feat worth praising, even by Melkor's standard. 

To say that he repented his crimes when he wanted nothing more than to tear Varda apart limb from limb, hear her agonized screams, then rip out her throat, all the while making Manwe watch... 

Manwe had stretched out a pale arm towards him and said with a smile that made Melkor's heart race, 'Welcome back, brother.'

He literally had to drag his own hand forwards and rest it on Manwe's because he did not think he could bear touching his traitorous soulmate, even after all this time. He had to force himself not to shudder when they touched, bare skin on bare skin.

It had been so long...

He bit back the longing that rose in him. He could not afford weakness. Not now, not ever.

***

He beheld Feanaro Curufinwe's Silmarils at a distance.

What did he think of them? Some said he was awestruck and terrified by the pure light, some said he was furious that he was not the one to create those wondrous gems, some said he was hit by a wave of incredible longing. 

In truth, the first thought in Melkor's mind was that they were quite bright and shiny.

The second thought was that Manwe and Varda must adore them.

The third was that they would be so very furious if Melkor took them.

And for the first time in eons, a genuine smile found its way onto Melkor's face.

It did not matter at all whether Melkor liked the jewels. What mattered was that Manwe and Varda did. That was what most people failed to grasp.

The truce was over.


	4. From Manwe's Perspective

Manwe had never understood Melkor.

He loved him dearly, as much as he loved Varda, even. But he could not understand him.

He vaguely recalled a time when Melkor had been kind and affectionate to him. But it had been such a long time ago that Manwe almost doubted if it was just a figment of his imagination, created by his own wishful thinking. 

He could not pinpoint the exact moment Melkor changed, but he wished he could. If it meant saving Melkor from the darkness, he would sacrifice his own life - he would walk into the Void itself without hesitation.

For the world, he claimed. 

Secretly, he knew it was for Manwe himself. The truth was that Manwe wanted Melkor back at his side.

He wanted it so much that even when he knew Melkor was lying through his teeth about his repentance, his stretched out a hand to accept him and welcome him without second thought. Because a small part of him could not help but hope that Melkor would come back to them - to him.

***

Manwe could not fully grasp the concept of soulmates. 

A soulmate was someone you felt attracted to above all others. Someone you wanted to spend your life with. Someone you wanted to kiss, to lie with. Someone for whom you would gladly give your life. 

They applied to Varda. How could they not? Varda was impossibly beautiful, perfection itself. Of course he was attracted to her. Spend his life with Varda - yes, he did love the company of the lovely woman, and who would not? To kiss her, lie with her - well, he had done them, and he did like them very much. Give his life for her - that went without saying. So he had never seen the problem with his marriage.

Until he touched Melkor's hand that day.

When their hands met, it suddenly occurred to Manwe that all of those applied to Melkor as well. Perhaps even more strongly. 

And then he began to doubt. 

He wondered if the doubting itself meant that Varda could not be his soulmate. After all, if you were with your other half, you would not doubt whether you were complete, yes? You would know instinctively that you were.

But there was nothing he could to about it. It was not like he could seek Varda's advice.

And when Melkor betrayed them again, that point was moot. Was it not?

But the betrayal had simply served to  strengthen Manwe's doubts. For he felt utterly devastated. Was it normal to feel that amount of sadness over the betrayal of someone who was not your One?

He tried to imagine how he would feel if Varda was the traitor instead of Melkor.

He would feel shocked, horrified, he would refuse to believe it until he saw it with his own eyes - and when he saw it he would feel pain. Yes, a great amount of pain. 

But not this pain - the pain he was now feeling, a soul-splitting, heart-wrenching pain. Not this pure misery. Not this - this heartbreak. 

So Manwe doubted more and more.


	5. Mairon

Some said that Melkor laid with his lieutenant. 

They were not wrong about that. 

What they did not know was that it was all about the hair. 

The one thing about Mairon that captivated Melkor was his flowing mane of golden hair. So luscious and beautiful it could rival the Silmarils. 

The only thing it could not hope to rival was Manwe's own silver hair. 

They were not the same colour, obviously - but the way those strands fell around the shoulders gracefully, the way they caught the light and shone so bright it hurt the eyes to watch - it was so familiar.

Mairon himself had never been picky about bed partners, so they laid together time and time again.

And every single time Melkor reached completion either clutching the strands or staring at them. In darkness it was even better - under the faint light, Mairon's golden hair almost looked silver. 

He knew what that signified, of course - his shameful weakness for Manwe. But he would never admit it, not even to himself.

That is, until one night he came crying out Manwe's name.

Mairon had been unfazed and showed no sign of surprise, but afterwards, in the darkness, he had said dryly, 'Well, it will be slightly harder to pretend we don't know why you are so infatuated with my hair after this.'

Melkor had glared at him with fury. 'If word of this spreads, Mairon - a mere whisper -'

'Yes, yes,' Mairon sighed wearily, not the least bit afraid. 'Burning on a stake. Mutilation. Wishing I had never been created.'

Melkor stopped sleeping with him after that because he could no longer pretend. And he could not bring himself to admit that he had a weakness, not even to his - friend. 

Mairon was as close to a friend as Melkor ever had. He was annoying sometimes, yes, but other times he with his practicality and bluntness was the only thing that kept Melkor sane. 

Or as sane as Melkor could be, at least.

For the master of disguises, Mairon was pretty down-to-earth and straightforward. No covering up the harsh truth with fancy words or excuses, no avoiding problems. The Maia looked truth in the eye unflinchingly, as valiant as the fearless Valar and far more perceptive. 

Melkor could not help but admire him. Sometimes he wished that Mairon was his One. Then everything would be so much simpler.


	6. Chapter 6

Melkor smiled as Maitimo Nelyafinwe was dragged in. 

He knew Manwe and Varda were watching him from afar, could feel their gazes burning holes in him. That did not deter him from what he was about to do. On the contrary, it was the knowledge that the king and queen of the heavens were witnessing it all that spurred him on. 

He turned towards his lieutenant. 'Take him to the torture chambers,' he instructed with a wicked smirk. 'It is an unusual spectacle, the eldest of the great Feanaro Curufinwe gracing our humble abode. Make sure that our special guest is - thoroughly entertained.' 

Maitimo lifted his head to give him and his lietenant a glare of hatred - and fear. How Melkor longed to see that same fear in the eyes of his kin the Valar! How he longed to see Varda cringe with terror when he bound her in chains and approached her with a whip and a dagger! But the Valar felt no fear, so their whipping boy was to suffer in their stead.

'Do not hate me, little pawn,' he told Maitimo in amusement. 'Hate the Valar. They started this all. Surely you who betrayed them understand their false, lying, treacherous nature better than most.'

Maitimo spat at his feet. 'May the Valar do justice upon you when they triumph over you,' he rasped vengefully.

Melkor raised an elegant eyebrow. 'Oh, yes. The Valar are, after all, renowned for their justice and wisdom,' he mocked. The elf looked away.

Mairon stepped forwards. 'What am I to question our guest about, my lord?'

'Oh, you need not bother with asking questions,' Melkor purred. 

He felt the tingling on his neck intensify. He could almost hear the curses Manwe and Varda were laying upon their vile, cruel kin.

'You did start it all, Varda,' he whispered maliciously as he watched the orcs drag Maitimo towards the dungeons. 'You have no one to blame but yourself.' 

***  
It had been a long, long time since Melkor dreamed of Manwe.

In the vision, they were standing in Valinor once more. It was back in the days before Manwe married Varda, before this all started.

A younger Manwe smiled down at Melkor as they took a stroll through the garden. They were holding hands. 'Sometimes, Melkor,' he was saying, 'I think you do not understand at all the quality of mercy!'

It was a lighthearted discussion. Manwe had not known, then, how true his statement was.

'Mercy,' scoffed the younger Melkor disdainfully. He had a half-smile on his face, though. He was happy. 'It is useless, Manwe. You will only be exploited if you show mercy. What good would it do anyone to have mercy?'

'To be merciful to others is to have mercy bestowed upon yourself in return,' Manwe told him. 

Melkor laughed in disbelief. 'Why would I need mercy from anyone? And who would have the ability to bestow mercy upon me?'

Manwe shrugged. 'You never know.' He smiled again. 'But you can try it out all the same, yes? And see if you like it or not.'

Melkor sighed in good humour. 'Someday, maybe, you will plead for me to bestow mercy upon someone, and I may consent,' he agreed grudgingly. 'But only because one has to test every theory out -'

'-and because I pleaded?' Manwe suggested. 

Melkor laughed. He kissed Manwe lightly on the cheek. 'You need but ask, Manwe,' he said. 'Whatever you would ask of me I would grant you.'

The vision faded. 

'Please,' Melkor heard the wind whisper in his ear.

***

And the son of Nolofinwe did not even wonder why rescuing his friend from Angband itself was so breathtakingly easy.


	7. Chapter 7

Melkor heard the High King of the Noldor's challenge with dread in his heart.

Feanaro was without doubt the greatest and most formidable of Finwe's three sons, but his power lay chiefly in his fiery spirit and iron will. If it came to a battle of swords - it would be hard to say who would win, Nolofinwe or Feanaro. The second son was truly a force to be reckoned with on the battlefield. Melkor did not know if he could beat this foe. The uncertainty ate at him, made him almost quake with fear. It was shameful, he knew, but the overpowering terror just _would not leave_! And if his minions saw that the great, invincible Dark Lod was  _scared_ of a mere elf - they were already scared out of their wits as it was...

Mairon stood beside him, his mouth twisted with anger and something akin to worry. 'You do not need to answer his challenge, my lord,' he said tightly. Ah, well. It was nice to know that at least there was one person who would truly care if he were to be defeated and banished into the Void. Unbidden, the thought came to him - would Manwe care? He had heard that it was unbearably devastating to lose a soulmate irrevocably. He himself had experienced it - to a degree. Losing Manwe to Varda would not be like losing Manwe to the Void, though. He wondered what it would feel like. But did Melkor still count as Manwe's One if Manwe rejected him? Would Manwe feel the same degree of pain if Melkor were to be banished? Would he _care_?

'My lord?' Mairon asked. Melkor blinked, shaking the thoughts from his head. Now was no time to let his mind wander. He had a High King to kill.

'My hammer, lieutenant,' he said under a façade of calmness. He did not think Mairon was fooled, though.

***

Manwe watched with a strange feeling in his breast as Manwe assumed his beastly form and walked towards Nolofinwe in his slow, heavy tread. He wondered what that feeling was. Not sadness (though there  _was_ sadness - it had always been present ever since Melkor betrayed them - betrayed _him_ ), not pain (though pain was there too), but something that was - heavier, something that seemd to weigh him down. 

The foreign feeling increased with every step the Dark Vala took towards his foe - and very possibly towards his downfall. 

Manwe did  _not_ want Melkor gone. Melkor was evil and cruel and ruthless. Him gone would be a blessing to the world, would be a gift from Eru himself, and would shatter Manwe's heart. So no - Manwe did not want him gone. He wanted the Dark Lord  _back._

Varda knew exactly what he was thinking, judging from the disapproving expression on her face. 'Moringotto committed unforgivable crimes, my lord husband,' she reminded him.

'Nothing is unforgivable if he repents,' Manwe said stubbornly. 

' _If_ he repents,' Varda replied. Manwe's heart sank. It was true - Melkor would never, ever repent. He would not truly regret what he had done, Manwe knew him well enough by now to realize. There would be no redemption for him. Only the Void awaited - 

Oh, Eru help them. He could not bear it. He could not bear the thought of Melkor gone from him forever. He  _loved_ Melkor! To banish him into the Void would be like banishing his heart into the Void!

'I cannot,' Manwe said loudly. 'I will not.' He fought the urge to sob loudly. Could Valar cry? he wondered. Probably not, save Yavanna. Their tears would be meaningless, after all. Same as their -

Fear.

So _that_ was what he had been feeling.

***

The High King awaited Melkor outside the gates.

Melkor wondered how it was that Feanaro did not fear this creature. Then again Feanaro had never been afraid of him or the other Valar, so it would almost be ridiculous to think he would be daunted by his own half-brother.

_Almost_ ridiculous. Because Feanaro was mad, was he not? And he had never faced Nolofinwe in true combat. If Feanaro was in complete possession of his sanity, and about to duel Nolofinwe to the death, he probably would have made the cleverest decision - turning tail and running.

Alas, Melkor could not do so. Even though it was doom he was beholding in the starlit eyes of the High King, almost as bright as Feanaro's had been, he could not run from it.

He might win the duel with Nolofinwe, he might not. One thing was for sure - if he fought Nolofinwe he would lose the war, one way or the other. 

Destined to fail because of one elf. How laughable. How unavoidable.

He lifted his hammer. And thought of Manwe.

***

Others would blame Manwe for eternity for doing this. How could they not? He would be destroying the Eldar's chance of defeating the Dark Lord. But how could  _he_ not? Melkor was -

Melkor was his One. 

He had wondered for a very long time, but now, finally, he _knew_.

There was a reason that every betrayal felt like a very personal stab to Manwe's heart. That even though Melkor was traitorous and evil through and through Manwe still loved him fiercely and irrevocably. That the mere thought of losing Melkor forever made him feel utterly terrified.

Manwe was very, very selfish.

'Manwe-' Varda said, warning in her voice.

Manwe appeared soundlessly between Nolofinwe and his One.

***

After an eternity he was here, before Melkor, staring at him with unfathomable azure eyes. 

_Why are you here?_ Melkor wanted to demand.  _To witness my downfall?_

'Nolofinwe, High King of the Noldor,' his mate said in his melodic voice that Melkor hated (and missed with every molecule in his being). 'Step back. To proceed would be your death.' He was looking straight at Melkor, though, instead of at the elf.

Nolofinwe stepped back instinctively. 'Lord Manwe?' he gasped. He looked every bit as thunderstruck as Melkor felt.

'Return to your people,' Manwe told Nolofinwe, still looking at Melkor. 'You have done well. It is sufficient. Your life's blood shall not be spilt on the alter.'

A victorious smile was forming on Nolofinwe's face. No doubt he knew that at long last the Valar were aiding them against this fight. He retreated, throwing Melkor a gaze of loathing as he did so.

Melkor did not know precisely what he was feeling. Anger at this King of the Valar, sadness that everything was to end this way, jealousy that Manwe was standing on Varda's side instead of his, love for his One -

He realized with some amusement that the Valar were no good with their own feelings. What a horrible weakness to have. It brought them so much confusion and needless pain. Then he remembered that it only brought _him_ pain - the others could not feel pain at all. he supposed.

'Well, my dear Manwe?' he found himself saying. 'Are you here to kill me?' 

Something flashed behind Manwe's eyes. 'No, my dear Melkor,' he told him quietly. 'I am here to offer you a deal.'

 


End file.
